I have to drive through Zion one last time to get to today’s destination, and on the way, I hike up one more hill to get my last look upon Zion National Park and it’s crisp morning sunrise.
Coffee and hike. Doesn’t that sound better than some people’s coffee and cigarette to start a morning?
I’m soon driving down the I-15, and the best stretch is through Arizona, the Virgin River Gorge, where the highway turns and twists through the gorge, not at all like the usual motorway that’s simply a straight, mindless drive.
And like nearly everywhere in this part of the world, the land changes quickly: suddenly I’m in the Nevada desert.
I pass small towns, where unnatural blots of green pop up on well manicured lawns surrounded by little bungalows that line very wide streets (in England, this would be 4 lanes on a major highway.)
It’s getting hotter; by the time I get to the Valley of Fire State Park, it is 41C. Everything in my car starts to sweat, my cameras are heating up, my water takes on an unpleasant taste. Still, I refuse to close my windows and turn the A/C on – there’s enough air coming in through the windows as I drive at 30mph in the park. Yes, the wind is hot: imagine opening a heated oven and the rush of hot air as it hits your face. Still, it’s worth it to be able to see the land not through a window.
Of course, the scenery changes again. The rock here is nothing like I’ve seen before. Dark red. Glowing white. Some with holes in it. Some with tears. Some with bumps. Some smooth. Some jagged. Some of it does look like fire. All of it is another playground to explore.
I set up camp behind a huge rock that keeps the site in the shade for much of the morning, and drive off to explore. There are warnings not to hike all over the place, but I didn’t drive all this way to just stay in the car, and pop out for a photo now and again.
I do the shorter hikes. There is a layer of sweat on my body; not even beads of sweat, just a layer of salty water. Even the wind can’t keep up with drying me off here. Most of the paths are sandy, and when the hot sand spills over into my shoes, it burns. Still, I move on. For some reason, I do not want the weather to win today.
A man and his son pass me on one walk – I’m on my way out; they’re just coming in.
“Wow, you’re brave,” the father says.
“Why?”
“Because you’re not wearing a hat. Would you like some water?” Hikers are the kindest. They’re always looking out for one another. I assure him that I am well hydrated, and have a hat and lots of water in the car. The hat goes on my head for the other short walks – hats do a good job stopping the sweat from pooling around my eyes, causing them to sting.
At one of the scenic points where I stop to have some juicy fruit and take shelter in a spot of shade, a young man arrives in a loud, orange Lamborghini. It’s a rental. He gets out of the car and is sorry to disturb me, but could I please take a photo of him and the car? I shoot a couple as he poses standing next to the car, sitting in the car, leaning on the car. I do not giggle, though I want to. There are a lot of sports cars in the park: it’s only an hour from Vegas and the abandoned, curvy roads make for fun driving. He drives away fast, revving the engine. I wonder if he got lucky gambling, or if he shot all of his money on a treat.
The heat exhausts me, and by the evening I’m glad to be in the shade, sitting down with my jug of fresh water. My skin itches, the salt on it dry. Thankfully, this is a park with showers; I don’t have to have a cowboy shower tonight for which I am grateful.
The night cools only a little, so I keep the fly off my tent and sleep under the stars. A wind storm arrives in the middle of the night that makes it impossible for me to keep sleeping. It rages for a long while, and suddenly stops. The night is still. The wind’s done nothing to cool the air; the heat lingers.
I have a lazy morning, enjoying the shade at my site – my next stop is Vegas and I don’t need to be there early. I spend some time exploring the rocks.
The thing about the outdoors is that it gives you your youth back; no magic potion or expensive creams needed.
My goodbye present is a bee sting: as I turn the water faucet on, so I can fill my water jugs, a bee zaps out of the faucet and into my thumb. I have to remove the stinger, and watch my thumb expand until it becomes stiff. I think about my friend who was stung by a bee on a camping trip – he is now allergic to changes in the temperature. For the rest of day I worry that I too, will now be allergic to something that will massively complicate my life, but as the day progresses, it only seems to be a bother that my thumb grows to twice its size, hurts and itches at the same time.
The drive to Vegas is pleasant enough, until I hit its outskirts. Thus far, I’ve only been relying on my road atlas, and so far, I haven’t gotten lost, but when I get to Vegas, I find traffic, lots of road signs, construction, and of course, I miss my exit. I attempt to find my own way to the Mirage, but eventually the heat, the traffic and people force me to finally turn on my GPS.
There’s not much to say about Vegas. It’s quiet during the day, and very busy at night. My hotel is huge, and I have trouble falling asleep in a big bed with a ceiling above it, though the shower is amazing. There are so many groups of young men and separately, groups of young women, everywhere. I avoid them as I stroll round the maze of casinos, finding my way to Cirque du Soleil’s “O” which is fantastic because it’s been a road trip without me seeing much water, and for the 90 or so minutes of the show, water is all I get (plus very cool acrobatics.)